


Idyllic Locks

by saudade (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Babies, I tried really hard, M/M, this might become a series but right now its a one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/saudade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean never thought that he’d end up as a hairdresser. Honestly, if you had have asked what he aspired to be in high school, he’d have probably answered with something along the lines of ‘a cop’ or ‘definitely a hot shot millionaire’, but never, <i>ever</i> would he have said ‘a hairdresser’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idyllic Locks

**Author's Note:**

> This has also been posted on my deviantART: 'asininewings' and was commissioned by 'shihagami'. (http://fav.me/d6sccsc) Ehhh, idk about this ... i tried but like ??? i like it but its really short sorry

Jean never thought that he’d end up as a hairdresser. Honestly, if you had have asked what he aspired to be in high school, he’d have probably answered with something along the lines of ‘a cop’ or ‘definitely a hot shot millionaire’, but never, _ever_ would he have said ‘a hairdresser’. Yet here Jean was, inside the tiny _Maria Haircuts_ , fingers drumming on the edge of the counter.

It was an easy going Wednesday afternoon; not many people had booked appointments for the day. Behind him, Jean could hear Connie and Sasha chatting away but upon hearing the words ‘celery up the butt’ he promptly tuned out. Leaning back on the chair behind the desk, he propped his feet up on the counter and sighed, closing his eyes.

The doorbell chimed with an annoying tinkle just as Jean had begun to make himself comfortable and with a frustrated grumble, he opened his eyes. Pulling himself out of his chair, he nearly stumbled into the counter when he saw who’d entered. A man with the most atrocious haircut was standing in front of him, a nervous smile playing on his lips. 

“Welcome to … Maria Haircuts …?” Jean managed to spit out, tilting his head and trying his hardest not to blurt out how stupid the newcomer looked. “Uh, I’m assuming … you want a haircut?” As the male in front of him nodded sheepishly, Jean opened up the old, brown book that held all the scheduled appointments for the day. His finger tapped down the list until he came across the current time, or at least, the appointment closest to the current time.

“... If your name is Marco Bodt, you’re ten minutes early.” Jean stated, his golden brown eyes darted up to the supposed Marco before dropping back down to the book. “… However, I guess seeing as though we have no one due until about …” his finger traced across a line, coming to stop at a time. “No one’s due to come in till five, so we can get your hair done if you need it …” _and boy, do you need it._

Smiling a little more relaxedly, the freckled gentleman nodded his head. “Yep, I’m Marco and … ahh, I guess I misread the clock.” He ruffled the back of his hear and chuckled quietly, almost afraid that if he laughed too loud he’d cause the somewhat peaceful silence around them to be disrupted. They stood in silence for a while, awkward and calculating. Eventually, Jean leaned over the desk and pressed a button on the radio beside him. Instantly, quiet pop music began to play throughout the studio.

“Right … so uh, haircut?” He mumbled, gesturing to a seat and waiting for the brunette to sit. Marco plopped himself down and immediately began talking. 

“Ah, obviously my hair is kind of long,” he cut off with a laugh before continuing, “so I’d like you to trim the fringe and then … Well, I’m not sure. I normally get it trimmed every few months but I’ve been looking for something-“

“Different,” Jean concluded, his fingers already itching towards the scissors on the counter in front of them. He may not have wanted to be a hairdresser, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t any good at it. Glancing into the mirror, Jean took in the front of Marco’s hair. He wrinkled his nose without thought as he gazed at the scraggly bangs and could have sworn they moved. 

Shaking his head and scooping up the scissors, the hairdresser cleared his throat. “Give me twenty minutes and I can assure you that you’ll have a hairstyle that is nowhere near as atrocious as this- Ah, I mean … crap.” 

Muffling his laughter and smiling good-naturedly, Marco nodded his head. “Sure thing, Mr Hairdresser!” he cheered as he sat straight and steady and waited for the soft brushing and clipping of his hair.

“Jean,” said boy mumbled, assessing the hair in front of him and picking up the comb. 

“Jean,” Marco repeated and the hairdresser decided that maybe his job wasn’t too bad, _however, this guy's haircut definitely is._


End file.
